Wounds
by XerxesRises
Summary: What if Emma asked Killian about his wounds? Emma takes a moment to try and heal Killian's heartache for once, giving him emotional and physical support. Takes place after 4.06 and before 4.07.


_This happens right after 4.06 ends, but doesn't include any major plot spoilers for that episode or the one after. There's a line that refers to something that takes place in 4.07, but it's more for humor than a reference to the events of that episode._

_Definitely M rated._

_Enjoy! _

_Disclaimer: I own nothing, but my opinions._

* * *

><p><strong>Wounds <strong>

The day had been long, the sun having set and taking its weak warmth with it. They were the only ones left in the Sheriff's station now. Her father had taken Elsa back to the loft hours ago, Emma waving them off and shrugging her shoulders absentmindedly when David asked her when she would be home. Hook had ordered pizza (a task he'd learned from Henry earlier in the week) and she'd stopped working long enough to eat. As soon as she'd finished, she'd gone right back into research mode, poring over pages and pages of facts, trying to figure out more about the Snow Queen, Ingrid.

She was currently sitting at the desk closest to the brig, her back to him as she hunched over a file. They hadn't spoken in quite a while, each too wrapped up in their own thoughts to make conversation, but it was a comfortable silence.

He was sitting at David's desk, his feet propped up on the corner of it, a file of his own spread out before him. He'd given up trying to make any sense of the information in the file long ago. He was tired and Emma was entirely too distracting in her simple top, so much of her delicious skin exposed to him. His gaze kept landing on her, taking in the slope of her neck, the rounded curve of her shoulder, the ridges of her spine that trailed gracefully down under her shirt. She was oblivious to his regard and he was free to let his gaze lovingly caress the lines of her body, memorizing every square inch of her skin, not knowing when he would be able to look upon so much of it unchecked again.

Her hair was pulled back from her face, it's long tendrils over one shoulder. Every once in a while, she'd brush her fingers through it, smoothing it as she followed an errant curl to its end. He knew how strong those strands were, knew what they felt like sliding through his fingers, knew the smell of vanilla that filled his lungs when he pressed a kiss into the thickness of it.

Her back was to him, but he could picture her beautiful face in his mind. He thought of the freckles on her nose and under her eyes and the way her long black eyelashes would brush against them when she looked shyly down after he'd given her a compliment. The phrase, "skin as white as snow" flitted through his mind and he couldn't help but picture her with one of her beautiful blushes that flared across her cheeks she was embarrassed (or, as he'd found out only recently, thinking something scandalous about the two of them..._those_ were the blushes he had come to love the most).

His gaze traveled to her shoulders, following the curve of one down along her arm and then over her slender fingers as she brushed them over the words in front of her. He loved the magic that flowed through those arms, those fingers. Gods, he loved her. Everything _about_ her, everything _within_ her, _all _of her, unconditionally.

As he watched, she dropped her chin down to her chest for a moment, sighing deeply and then blowing out her breath in an annoyed whoosh.

"Okay, Swan?" He asked, watching as she leaned back in her chair, stretching out her arms and shaking her head as if to clear it of her many troubled thoughts.

"I can't look at another word. They're all starting to blur together." Swiveling in her chair, she faced him so that their gazes met, his stomach dropping as if he'd just crested a massive wave. She smiled and he felt it again, this time his breath stilling in his chest at the sensation.

"You didn't have to stay here with me, you know." She finally said, breaking the quiet between them.

"There's no place else I'd rather be, love." He watched as her smile widened, a pretty blush coloring her cheeks.

Standing, she moved to his desk, planting her hands on his desktop so she could look over the file he'd given up researching ages ago, not that it held much useful information anyways. She came to that conclusion quickly on her own, closing the file abruptly and worrying her bottom lip with her teeth. He could see her distress and annoyance roiling under the surface of her skin, keeping her tense, distracted.

"You'll figure it out, Swan." He assured her softly, hoping to take away some of her angst.

"I know. It's just...irritating me." She sighed before scrubbing her hands over her face and then smiling down at him. "I need to get home and sleep. Henry has a doctor's appointment in the morning and I have to be here right after that. I can drop you off at Granny's on my way home, if you'd like."

"That would be lovely, Swan, thank you." He stood, grabbing his jacket from the back of his chair. He waited as Emma shut off the lights in the station before grabbing her own jacket from her office. They walked out together, shoulders bumping companionably, fingers brushing briefly now and then as they made their way towards her car.

They don't speak on the short drive to Granny's. Emma is occupied with her thoughts, a wrinkle of concentration bringing her brows together. Hook continued to watch her, although a little more surreptitiously now that she could catch him in the act. He stared at her legs for long moments, watching as she moved them to slow the car and then speed up again. He marveled at how she worked the clutch and the gear shift so smoothly (she's explained this to him many times now) and wondered, not for the first time, who had taught her how to navigate these mechanical vessels when she was younger.

When she finally pulled up in front of Granny's, he noted that the wrinkle between her brows had expanded into a deep frown.

"Killian?" She looked deeply concerned about something and he tensed, wondering what thoughts were running around in that marvelous mind of hers.

"Earlier today, when we were in the woods together...you said something about the wounds that we receive when we're little tending to linger." He stared over at her, surprised that she remembered his words so closely, and he suddenly felt apprehensive about what he may have revealed when he spoke them to her.

"What made you think of that, love?" She shrugged, looking down to her hands, her fingers wrapped around the steering wheel so tightly that her knuckles were white.

"I'd forgotten about it with everything else that happened today, but on the drive over here, I was thinking about that folder I found with those "relics" from my childhood and I remembered what you said." There was a pause before she turned back to him, her eyes determined and Hook felt his stomach clench at the sight. "What happened when you were little, Killian? You can tell me. I want to know more about your beginnings, too."

He stared into her beautiful eyes, marveling at the woman before him. She was trying so hard with him these days and he couldn't believe how insanely happy it made him to know that she was putting such effort into making this work, whatever_ this _was. She lets him hold her hand, lets him kiss her cheek and brush his fingers through her hair. She smiles at him, makes little jokes that only the two of them understand. She shares her life with him, the good and the bad. And she makes gestures like this, asking him about_ his_ wounds.

Smiling softly to reassure her, he reached over and wrapped his hand around hers. Prying it off the steering wheel, he brought it to his lips for a tender kiss, wanting her to know how much he appreciated her concern even if he's not quite willing to show her the ugliness of his own past at the current moment.

"It's late, Swan, and you have that appointment in the morning with your boy."

"I've pulled all-nighters before, Hook. I don't mind."

"We're both tired and stressed, Emma. It's late and you have to get up early." He admonished softly.

"Those sound like excuses. I'm the queen of excuses, so I know it when I hear them from someone else." She stared over at him, her gaze determined and direct. She's not going to give up on this that easily, he thinks to himself before he sighs, looking down to where her hand is perched on his knee. She's leaning towards him, reaching across the distance that separates them in earnest.

"Perhaps they are, but I've lived many a year and it's not easy to talk about things that are best left buried." He's a bit terse when he says it, but he's comforted when she squeezes his knee after a moment to let him know that she understands.

"Well, I'm here and I can be patient." She smiled, ending the conversation. They shared a brief kiss, her fingers finding their way into his hair before she pulled away, smiling thoughtfully at him. She'll be asking him about his __wounds__ again soon_, _probably when he least expected it and he was suddenly anxious to get away from her.

He needed a moment alone to gather his thoughts and clear his mind. He was all too aware of the memories that were suddenly threatening to break loose from the tenacious hold that he kept on them. He felt raw and exposed under her gaze, panic beginning to bubble under the surface of his skin. He marveled at how easily one simple question from Emma Swan could turn him inside out and uncover all that he'd been ignoring since he'd met her.

He made his way inside the bed and breakfast, pausing long enough to say hello to Granny on his way up the stairs. Once in his room, he lay down on his bed fully clothed except for his boots, staring up at the ceiling as he thought about how long it had been since he'd told anyone of the miseries of his childhood.

He'd never really shared much of his past with Emma, telling her only stories of his life as a pirate, but not dwelling on the parts that were truly painful for him. He'd worked so hard to help her heal her own wounds that he'd almost convinced himself that his were no longer of consequence. It was as if he'd started to believe that he could leave the most painful parts of his past behind, forgotten and unexamined. That was a delusion, of course. How could he ever truly forget the pain, the heartache, that had driven him for centuries to seek revenge and to curse love?

Knowing that he was never going to be able to sleep tonight, he watched as shadows moved slowly across the ceiling, thinking over the memories of his many years and picking at each one like it was a scab. With each pull on his tender flesh, he exposed more of his bloody past, his body aching with memories that were swirling just beneath the surface of his skin, his heart racing as he fairly bled them into the dark stillness of his room.

Even after all this time, he could still see Milah's beautiful face as she lay dying in his arms and whispering up to him that she loved him. So many happy days with her before that one devastating moment and he contemplated how he would ever explain to Emma the depths of what he'd felt for her. Milah had been his first love, if not his true love, and she was one of his many wounds, deep and throbbing.

What would he tell Emma about Milah and their life together? That she'd been beautiful and fierce and had loved him as deeply as he'd loved her? That she smelled like the wind and tasted like rum, that her eyes sparkled with mischievousness and adventure? That she had cried for her boy almost nightly, her Baelfire that she'd abandoned to be with the love of her life? That she'd made him happy when he had thought he'd never be happy again after losing Liam? That when she'd died, part of his soul died with her? Would Emma want to know all of that?

And Liam. A wound so profound, so deep, that Hook knew he'd forever be trying to staunch the pain of it.

His brother had been so stubborn, so full of himself, but it had been well-earned. He was every bit the captain, both of the ship that they sailed together and of their lives. He had been the father figure that Killian had sorely lacked, raising his little (_younger_) brother from the time that their father had abandoned them as two young lads. If left to his own devices, Hook knew that he would've easily taken a darker path in life, not ashamed to do whatever he needed to do to survive. Liam had always been the honorable one, never leading him astray. It was only when Liam was gone from his life, that Hook gave into his darker nature. Had given into the desire to pillage and plunder, to live a life devoid of compassion and goodness, reveling in the blackness of his heart.

Killian tossed and turned for a while, memories of Liam and Milah running rampant within him. When it all became too much he got out of bed, searching for his flask. Popping the cork, he took a deep pull of the liquor, closing his eyes as he drank deeply.

He would never have expected to feel so exposed from just one simple question, but he couldn't stop these memories from seeping under his carefully constructed facade. Underneath it all, he was still just a lost boy himself, still hoping to be rescued from the depravity of his dark soul and still hoping to find a home. He wasn't all that different from Emma on those two points. They truly were kindred spirits, two damaged individuals searching for a safe port from the storm of life. He knew just want she needed because that's what he had always needed, too.

Grabbing his phone from where he'd dropped it on the nightstand, he checked the display to see what time it was. It was almost one in the morning and he was no closer to sleeping than he had been when he first arrived back in his room. If anything, he was further from it, his body tense and his mind racing with memories that he couldn't shake.

Normally, when he felt like this, he'd go off and do something wonderfully destructive. Get drunk and have meaningless sex with a stranger against the wall of a dark alley. Sail out and attack a ship. Find some buried treasure, bury a little treasure, be the scourge of the high seas. Create a little havoc as any good pirate captain worth his salt should do. But none of those options appealed to him now, feeling rough and unfamiliar as he contemplated them.

So, he did the only thing that was available to a semi-reformed pirate with a hook for a hand and no ship to sail; he drank himself into a wonderfully satisfying stupor.

Sitting cross legged on his rumbled blankets, he listened to the sounds coming from the other rooms of the inn (whoever was next door was _definitely_ enjoying a little time alone together; Hook grinned as the headboard repetitively slammed into the wall behind him) and took long, deep swigs from his flask. He turned painful memory after painful memory around in his head, torturing himself again and again as he watched each one play out in his mind's eye.

As the liquor began to muddle his mind, he settled into the pillows at his back, blissfully thanking the rum for helping him to_ finally _fall asleep. It was his last conscious thought until he jumped in surprise when his phone buzzed along the surface of the nightstand beside him.

Cursing the modern technology that was always present in this realm, he grabbed the phone, Emma's face smiling up at him. He contemplated not answering for a moment, for some reason loathe to have her hear his drunken slur.

"Oh, good, you're still up." She was breathless in his ear and the sound of it did strange things to his heart as it slammed against his ribcage.

"Well, I am now, love." His voice was scratchy and deep, curt. Not at all the way he normally spoke to her.

"Oh, were you sleeping? God, you were sleeping. I'm sorry."

"It's fine, Swan." He took a deep breath, hoping to keep his slurring to a minimum. "How can I be of service?"

There was a pause and then, "I can't sleep. I keep thinking about our last conversation and I just...are you okay?"

"Ah." He sat up a little straighter, struggling to untangle his hook from where it was tangled up in his blankets. Cursing softly, he yanked hard on his arm, hearing a loud rip as he was finally able to free it. Damn, he was going to have to fork over extra doubloons this month to pay for the damage.

"Killian? Is everything okay?" She repeated. He could hear her concern, but at the moment, he was having one hell of a time even being coherent, so he didn't respond right away. He finally murmured something about being half asleep, hoping she wouldn't hear the lie in the terse reply.

"Oh." She replied, adding quickly, "I'll see you later today then. Sorry to wake you." And then she was gone.

He cursed again, dropping his chin to his chest before pushing himself shakily to his feet. He swayed for a moment, smirking in bitterness when he realized that he'd lost his ability to hold his rum trying to live as a hero for these many months.

He made his way slowly to the small bathroom attached to his room where he relieved himself before standing in front of the small mirror over the sink, looking at the ruin of the man he had become in just a few short hours. His eyes were bloodshot with drink and lack of sleep, his face flushed an angry red. There was no sign of the dashing pirate he played himself off as being in the reflection before him.

_Wounded indeed,_ he thought to himself as he made his way back to the bed. He disrobed, dropping his clothing into a pile on the floor, his brace and hook landing on top of it. He crawled into the bed, not bothering with his pajama pants as he pulled the blankets up to his waist. Given the amount of rum he'd consumed, he was able to drop off to sleep almost immediately, his dark memories blurred and opaque as he fell easily away from them.

He was startled awake sometime later, disoriented and still more than a little drunk. Sitting up in bed, he listened intently for the noise that woken him. There was quiet and then a gentle rapping at the door followed by the hum of his phone as it rattled along the surface of the nightstand. He groped over the side of his bed for his flannel pants, stumbling as he stood too quickly and then stumbling again when he tried to pull on the pants in one smooth motion. He had to sit down on the edge of the bed for a moment so that his world would stop tilting before he was able to grab the phone and make his way sluggishly towards the door.

His room was still dark, the screen on his phone letting him know he'd only been asleep for a couple of hours. He saw that there were several text messages from Emma, starting soon after he last spoke with her up until the most recent one, which he assumed had awoken him. He read that one, seeing an order to open his door.

"Open my door?" He murmured to himself, glancing over at his hook on top of his clothes. He paused, debating the merits of pulling it back on before opening the door. He glanced out the peephole to see the top of Emma's blond head before him. He glanced once more at his hook and brace before peering down at his phone. His thoughts were muddled and unfocused, much like his vision as he reread the words on the little screen before him.

There was another knock on the door, harder this time and then Emma called out to him in concern.

"Hook? Are you in there?" One last look at his namesake before he took a deep breath. He leveled his shoulders, threw his phone back on the bed and then gripped the doorknob in his hand. Well, she wanted to know about his wounds, didn't she, he thought bitterly to himself. Be prepared to see the worst one, love, he added before opening the door.

She stood before him in a bulky jacket, hair a tumbled down mess, dark circles under her eyes. One hand was raised as if she was about to knock on the door again, her eyebrows pulled down in frustration, her phone in her other hand as she pressed her thumb quickly against the screen, tapping out another text.

"To what do I owe the pleasure, Swan?" He asked as he leaned against the door frame, crossing his arms to hide his damaged wrist from her gaze.

"Killian!" Relief flooded her face and she took a step towards him then stopped as she looked at him a little more closely.

He watched as a beautiful pink tinge flooded her cheeks when she was realized that he was standing there without any clothing except his usual necklace and a pair of flannel pants that were riding low on his hips. Under normal circumstances, he would enjoy tormenting her a bit, throwing in a saucy wink and a smirk for good measure, but he was still drunk and moving rather quickly towards a hangover. Not to mention the fact that his heart was completely shredded by all the painful memories that this very same woman had forced on him with one question. He just wasn't in the mood for flirtatious.

"Oh." She said softly, her gaze sliding along his torso, pausing where his arms were crossed on his chest and then moving slowly down his stomach to his legs, lingering on his feet before repeating the journey in reverse. He watched as she swallowed hard before looking into his eyes, her own widening in surprise at his state of dress.

"Oh." She whispered again and this time, he couldn't help the little smirk that pulled up the corner of his mouth.

"Emma, it's late." He reminded her, not bothering to gentle his tone. It seemed to have the desired affect as she visibly shook her head, her brow wrinkling again as she straightened before him.

"I was worried about you. You sounded...not like yourself before and then you weren't answering your phone."

"I believe I told you when we last spoke on that infernal contraption that you had awoken me. I wouldn't think that not answering your phone at such an ungodly hour because you are sleeping would cause such great panic, love." He raised a questioning eyebrow at her, watching as she flushed in irritation at his condescension. She tilted her head up in defiance, determination in her gaze.

"Well, in any other town that would be fine. But we are in Storybrooke and all bets are off."

"Ah. Well, as you can see, I'm perfectly fine." He stood up straighter, dropping his arms to his side and watching as her gaze followed the right one. He had the sudden desire to hide it behind his back, embarrassed at her seeing him without his brace.

"Is there anything else that I can help you with, Swan?" He asked sharply, feeling his cheeks flush at the way her eyes swept back up to his so quickly_. _The expression on her face was the same damn one he'd seen on the faces of his crew immediately after his hand had been removed by the Crocodile;_ p___ity__ for the one handed captain.

He felt himself scowl at her, more dark memories swirling within him. Turning away from her lest she see his thoughts on his face, he stormed back into his room, leaving the door open for her, but not inviting her inside.

He plopped down on his bed, crossing his ankles as he settled against the headboard at his back. When he finally looked up at her, she was silhouetted by the light in the hallway, almost glowing as she peered into the room at him. He couldn't see her face, couldn't see what she might be thinking, but he knew when she decided to follow him. She squared her shoulders in determination and then stepped forward, closing the door softly behind her.

"Alright then." She said, crossing her arms in front of herself, staring across the room at him. "What's gotten into you?"

"Whatever do you mean? I've been here, trying to sleep, but _you _keep interrupting me. Bad form, Swan." He clicked his tongue at her in disapproval.

"What's going on, Killian? You're drunk and I know something is not okay with you."

"I'm spectacular_,_ Swan." He drew the word 'spectacular' out, dropping his voice down an octave along with his jaw, knowing the effect it would have on her. He smirked when he saw her eyes widen in arousal, feeling his ego swell at her response. Deciding to play this out a bit more, he patted the empty spot beside him on the bed, his voice still deep as he murmured, "If you want to join me, I can show you just how bloody _spectacular_ I am."

For a moment he thought she might join him on the bed. He watched as she actually swayed in his direction before realization hit her and an angry flush colored her cheeks.

"Stop it! You're avoiding the question." He almost expected her to stamp her foot in frustration, the thought causing another smirk to cross his face. He settled against the pillows at his back, an amused brow high on his forehead as he waited for her to continue. "I don't know what's wrong, but there's something bothering you. I can _feel_ it."

'You haven't _felt_ anything yet, love." She snorted at that, rolling her eyes in exasperation.

"You can flirt all you want, Hook, but I know when something is bothering you."

"How in the world do you know that?"

"Because I _know_ you. I know the sound of your voice when you're in pain. You don't need to do that, you know. You don't have to hide from me." She stepped further into the room, her sudden earnestness causing his heart to ache.

"You don't know me, Swan. Not the _real_ me." He said darkly, shifting his eyes down to stare at his good hand.

"Don't I?" She stepped up to the side of his bed, gazing down at him with affection, a soft smile on her lips. When he kept his eyes trained on his fist, she sat hesitantly next to him, reaching a hand out to grip his. It reminded him of the night that they had gone on their one and only date, of the way she'd reached out to grab his hand as he'd stared at it in horror.

"Killian, _talk _to me. Let me help." She squeezed his fingers, trying to reassure him. He watched as she linked her fingers with his, the warmth of her palm pressing against his in that wonderfully innocent way that she had.

"You can't..." He had to stop and breathe deeply before continuing over the lump that had formed in his throat. "You can't help me, Emma."

"Won't you even let me try?" She asked him, almost begging him to let her help. He looked up then. Her eyes were wide and anxious as she searched his face, her jaw at a determined angle as she stared back at him. He couldn't help the grin that crossed his face or the mirthless laugh that left his mouth.

"What?" She finally asked when his laughter died down.

"It's amusing, Swan."

"What is?"

"You, Savior. You're trying to _save_ me, aren't you?" He titled his head as he took her in, eyes narrowing in contemplation. "You've decided that there's something broken in me and you need to save me like you've saved everybody else. Well, I hate to break it to you, Swan, but I don't need saving."

"Oh, I don't know. You look like you're pretty desperate for some help and I happen to know what that feels like."

"Do you now?"

"You know I do, Hook. You've been there for me, more times than I can count when I've been feeling lost. You've helped me find my way."

She looked back to him swiftly, catching something in his eyes that gave her courage to keep pushing. She pulled his hand into her lap, keeping her eyes trained on his face as she spoke. "When I asked you earlier about your wounds, you shut down. Killian, what happened when you were a kid?" He tensed at her question, keeping his eyes on their joined hands in her lap.

"That was a long time ago, love. It's nothing of consequence."

"Liar." She admonished softly, shaking her head to let him know that she didn't buy a word of what he was saying. "You've never let me get away with saying that. I'm not going to let you either. Tell me."

"Stop, Emma." He ordered, pulling his hand from hers and leaning his head back against the headboard.

It was quiet for a moment, her breathing harsh beside him as she stared at him. Closing his eyes, he smirked when he heard the occupants in the next room start up again, breaking the tense stillness that had settled between them. They couldn't hear what was being said, but the moaning and the bed banging against the wall made it hard to ignore what was happening.

"Who's in that room?" Emma whispered.

"No idea." She was quiet for a moment before a soft giggle erupted from her.

"Wow. They're having a _good_ time."

"Jealous?" He opened his eyes long enough to wink at her and then settled back to listen. His hand crept back over to hers, their fingers tangling again. The volume of the moans and the rhythm of the bed banging on the wall steadily increased before a curse rent through the air as both participants cried out their release.

He looked over at Emma, taking in her wide eyes and open mouth. "We could give them a run for their money, don't you think, Swan?"

"I have no doubt." She agreed, squeezing his hand. Both of his eyebrows raised in surprise at her cheeky response. Emma grinned, her eyes bright with laughter and more than a little promise.

"Shift over." She ordered as she suddenly pushed against his shoulder with her free hand.

He obeyed, moving easily along the bed to make more room for her. She arranged herself next to him, copying his posture and stretching her legs out next to his, crossing them at the ankles as well. She kept her fingers laced with his, their palms pressed intimately together. They sat for several long moments, listening to the murmurs in the room next door.

He knew she was waiting for him to start talking, but he just couldn't bring himself to say anything. Where did you start when so much of your past was hard and ugly? How did you find the words to explain how sad it all made you, how deeply the scars ran along your soul? As the silence stretched and the voices next door petered out, she lay her head on his shoulder. He listened to the sound of her breathing, deep and calm, next to him.

When he finally found his voice, he wondered at the gravelly quality of it. It sounded almost as if he was about to break down in deep, wracking sobs and perhaps he was. He hadn't thought of these events in more years than he cared to count, had not spoken of them to anyone in an even longer amount of time.

He decided to start as early as he could, before the pain of Liam and Milah's deaths. He told her of how much he'd loved his mother and how she'd died when he was a wee lad. He tried to describe her to Emma, but found that the years had not been kind to her memory. She was blond, he knew, her hair like spun gold and smelled faintly of honey.

"I still love that smell. It makes me feel...warm." He explained, pausing to clear his throat at the sudden tightness. "_She_ made me feel warm."

"She sounds like a good mom." Emma whispered.

"I suppose. I don't remember much else about her."

"Well, you'd remember if she wasn't. I have plenty of those memories to last a lifetime." They were quiet for a moment, both immersed in their dark thoughts, before he continued.

He didn't remember his mother's death or the illness that led up to it. Perhaps he had remembered once, but the memory had faded over time. He was able to tell Emma how Liam had gone off to look for their father then, returning with him after several long days away. Hook remembered how his father had declared that they were going to be a family and he was going to take his lads with him when he sailed away. He remembered going to sleep that night, so excited by all the adventures that they were about to have together. Life hadn't seemed so desperate then.

But it was all over when he woke the next morning to find Liam sitting next to him, a poorly written letter of explanation clutched in his hand.

"He'd run off. Left us. Turns out he was a wanted criminal. He took what little money and food we had and left us there, all alone."

"What did you do?"

"Me? Cried, I suppose. I wasn't very old at the time. Liam, though, he never cried. Not once. Just figured out what to do and then made it happen."

"He sounds like a good big brother to have." Emma squeezed his hand and he squeezed back.

"He was the best." He paused in thought before adding, "Your father reminds me of him."

"David? Really?"

"Stubborn to a fault. Overly optimistic. Loyal." He stopped before admitting that those traits had eventually led to Liam's death.

"There are worse things than being optimistic, stubborn, and loyal." She whispered to him.

"You mean being like us, love?"

"Pessimistic and suspicious? Yeah."

"Well, I would argue that we have inherited the stubborn characteristic as well. So, pessimistic, suspicious, _and_ stubborn."

"That sounds about right." She giggled, snuggling closer into his side, pressing the warmth of her face against his shoulder. He smiled in agreement, pressing a kiss into her hair. "What did you do once your father was gone?"

"For a while we stayed in my mother's home. As long as we could. Liam always brought home food, although he never did tell me how he came by it. Thinking about it now, I'm sure he was stealing it or doing something equally nefarious." He paused, reflecting on the past.

"What is it?" Emma prompted when he didn't speak again for a few minutes.

"Liam had a strong moral compass. He knew what was right and what was wrong. Whatever he was doing to find us food, if it was criminal in any way, it would've near broken him to do it, but he did it anyways."

"For you." She breathed.

"For me." He agreed, appreciating his brother in a whole new way, even after all these years. He sighed, the loss of such a good man breaking his heart all over again.

He kept talking, telling her how Liam had come home one day after signing up to join the King's Navy as a cabin boy. Killian had been petrified at the thought of doing the same, not wanting to leave the only home they'd ever known, but Liam's next words sealed his fate.

"This is our best chance, Killian. I won't force you to come with me. It's your choice, but I'm going. I don't want to be hungry anymore, I don't want to be cold anymore. I won't stay here any more and watch your starve. If you come with me, you'll have food, warmth, and you'll have me. I'll take care of you, Killian, but only if you come with me."

"He said that?"

"Aye. My brother was a self-righteous little git when he wanted to be, even then." Hook smiled at the memory of Liam standing in rags, curls all snarled, his voice just starting to deepen into a man's timbre, rattling off that speech with his blue eyes blazing. "He was born to be a captain. He could rally anybody with his speeches."

"You went with him."

"Aye. I'd follow him anywhere." He responded simply. Emma shifted against him, leaning up to press a kiss against his cheek. He felt his face heat at the simple gesture and when she settled back down against him, he pressed his face into the sweet tangle of her curls.

"What was it like joining the Navy? Were you scared?"

"I don't think I had a good sense of what was going on to actually be scared, most of the time. I do remember that it was hard work. From before dawn until well after dark, I worked. But I loved it. As did Liam. The sea is in our blood. I've often wondered how I survived so long on land without knowing the sea as I came to."

"You miss it." There was no question or judgment in her statement, just a simple acknowledgement of his soul.

"The sea? Aye. Being a criminal?" Here he paused, thinking over his time as a pirate. He wouldn't lie to her, there were parts of it he missed. The adventure, the thrill, his beloved _Jolly Roger, _but he didn't miss the killing, the death, the terror that he brought with him. He took a breath, weighing his words carefully before responding, "Aye, there are parts of that life I miss, but having you with me, like this, that more than makes up for them."

"That's a lot of pressure for a girl, you know." She whispered to him, tilting her head back to look up at him again, fear dancing in her eyes.

"I don't mean for it to be, love. It's just the simple truth of my life now." She contemplated that for a moment, settling back against him as he pressed another kiss into her hair.

"You don't...you don't have to tell me about Liam's death if you don't want to, Killian." His heart ached at the hesitant way that she said it, her concern for him giving him comfort even as he remembered holding his brother's lifeless body in his arms, calling for him as his very world careened off it's axis.

"You said you wanted to know my beginnings, my wounds. This is one of them." He said simply. Still, he didn't say anything right away, trying to find words that wouldn't tear his heart in half to speak.

She waited, her body tensed for his words, her palm warm against his. Needing to feel more of her in this moment, he untangled their hands, sliding down along the bed and then reaching for her. She came to him quickly, reaching down to pull his sheet and blankets up over them before she nestled down against him. He pulled her tight to him, pressing his nose into the clean scent of her hair, breathing her in.

When he finally started to speak, his voice was low and deep. He found comfort in telling her, soothing _her _when he spoke of how Liam had jabbed the Dreamshade thorn into his forearm, holding her tighter when he described what Pan had offered to him high on the cliffs of Neverland. She knew what that offer had meant, knew that when they made their way back to the _Jolly Roger _they were sealing Liam's fate. When he finally told her of his brother's death, he felt her press her face into his chest as she murmured her remorse and her apologies.

He wasn't entirely sure when her whispered words of comfort became hot kisses pressed into his flesh, but he quickly took advantage of them. Wrapping his hand into the mass of her hair, he pulled her mouth up to his, wasting no time opening her to his insistent tongue. She tasted like toothpaste and he realized she must have brushed her teeth before coming to see him, which was a pleasant thought.

He made no protest when she straddled his waist, leaning down to press more kisses against his neck and biting his Adam's apple and collarbone, mouthing her teethmarks away with her slick tongue. He kept his hand wound in her hair, lightly holding her as she moved against him, her mouth hot against his fevered flesh.

He had dreamed of having her like this and he was finding the reality a million times better than his fantasies. She was so damn warm, her breasts pressed tight against him as she trailed kisses down his body.

"Emma." He whispered, pulling his hand from the back of her head and shifting up on his elbows. She leaned away from him, a question crossing her face before she was kissing him again, mouth hot and demanding against his. "_Emma_." He moaned, breaking away to breathe for a moment before smiling up at her.

"Love, what are you doing?"

"I seriously have to explain what's going on right now?" He chuckled breathlessly against her, shifting his hips up so that she could feel the hard evidence of his desire. Her eyes flared at the contact, a groan of recognition slipping from her mouth as she pressed herself down against him.

"Forgive me for misspeaking. I know _what_ you're doing, Swan. Believe me." He grinned up at her, licking his lips in anticipation. "I simply don't understand _why_ you're doing it now, love." He finished on a gasp when she slid her hips back down along his throbbing length, the heat of her body pressing tight to his. Oh, but this was quickly getting away from him, he thought as he struggled to catch his breath.

"I would've thought that would be obvious, Hook." She replied, sounding a bit breathless herself, he noted in triumph. He rolled his hips back up against her, feeling her shudder as he hit her just right with the ridge of his cock.

"Enlighten me, love." He demanded, staring up into her flushed face as she leaned over him, hands planted on either side of his head. She was gorgeous, hair flared around her shoulders, cheeks pink, lips swollen from his kisses.

He realized with a start that he could see down her shirt, noticing for the first time that she wasn't confined by any type of corset. How he'd failed to take note of that when she took her jacket off was beyond him, but he was certainly enjoying that fact now. Smirking, he enjoyed the unfettered view of her breasts through the deep v-neck of her t-shirt, leaning up to press a soft kiss to her bare collarbone. She caught him staring, felt his hips stutter up against hers again and a devilish smirk of her own danced across her face.

Not willing to be distracted from his original question, he plopped back down onto the bed, propping his head up with his hand behind his head. "Why, love?" He questioned her again.

She sighed above him, pushing her hair away from her face and sitting up, her heat coming to rest solidly against his length. She squirmed slightly as she settled against him, her eyes squeezing shut at the friction she was creating for herself before she opened those gorgeous eyes to peer down at him.

"I'm helping heal your wounds." She murmured, shy all of a sudden. He stared up at her, his heart racing at her words.

"Emma. You don't have to do this to make me feel better."

"That's not why I'm..."

He cut her off abruptly, his voice harsh. "I don't need a _mercy_ fuck, love. That's not why I told you about Liam." He stared up at her, knowing she could see the hurt in his eyes.

"That's what you think I'm doing?" She gasped, understanding crashing down across her face. Then, anger, fierce and determined, chased the understanding away. She actually slapped at him then, her palm stinging where it struck his chest. "You stupid...ass!"

She was_ fuming_ and Killian was suddenly concerned about having an angry savior with untested and unpredictable powers sitting so close to his treasure, as it were.

"Emma!" He grabbed her wrist in his hand, cursing darkly the loss of his other one in this moment. "Stop!" He ordered, sitting up abruptly and wrapping his arms around her to prevent her doing any real damage.

"I would never do that!" She declared, struggling against him for a few moments, stilling when she felt his arms tighten around her. He ordered her to stop once more, commenting that if she didn't, she'd bring down Granny's in a fit of rage.

"I can't take out a whole building. A wall or two, sure." She pouted. He chuckled against her shoulder, rocking her slightly before leaning back to catch her gaze with his.

"Will you continue to abuse me if I let you go?" She glared at him before shaking her head. He slowly lay back down, settling his hand on her thigh as he stared up at her.

"It's not a mercy fuck, Hook." She crossed her arms over her chest, completely put out. She wouldn't look at him, focusing her gaze on the wall of his room, staring intently at the painting of the sea that hung there.

"I'm sorry, love. I spoke in haste." She snorted.

"Yeah. _Haste _is one way to put it."

"Stupid ass is another, I take it." She snorted again, but this time, she looked down at him. "If not mercy or pity, love, then why?" Her face softened at the confusion she heard in his voice. Then she smiled, soft and loving, an expression that he'd only ever seen on her face when she looked him.

"You really don't know what you do to me?" She sighed in exasperation, uncrossing her arms to press a hand to the red splotches on his skin from where she'd slapped him. She traced her palm print, trying to take the sting away before leaning down and pressing her mouth to his chest.

"Tell me what I do to you, Emma." He murmured, suddenly breathless at the expression in her eyes as she gazed up at him. She propped her chin on her hands, settling against his chest as she stared up at him, long lashes fluttering against her cheeks.

"It's simple, really. I want you. Have for longer than I'll ever admit. It's more than just wanting you, though." She paused and when she spoke next, he could have sworn his heart stopped at her words.

"I want to show you _how _I feel_. _Show you that you're not alone." When his heart started beating again, he wound his hand back into her hair and pulled her up to his mouth, desperately wanting to taste her again. Long moments passed as he kissed her, tasting the truth of her words on her tongue.

He would never get over the way she kissed, the silky warmth of her mouth on his. It was like nothing he'd experienced in his many years; the ache, the burn, the _electricity_ she created with each slide of her mouth on his.

They were both panting when he finally pulled away. He pressed his forehead to hers, breathless and dizzy, smiling softly at the way she hummed against him.

"You taste like rum." She whispered, trailing her tongue along her bottom lip, smiling shyly before dipping her head to press a kiss along the column of his throat. He groaned when she found a particularly sensitive spot against his pulse and then groaned again as she sucked and nipped at his flesh.

"_Emma_." He moaned, holding her against him as he flexed his hips, loving the way she undulated against him, feeling her heat searing him through the thin material of their clothes. "Love, I don't want to pressure you, but what are your intentions here? Because I don't think I can take much more of this without losing my grip on sanity."

She giggled, but gods, he was serious. If she wasn't careful, he'd be flipping her onto her back and plunging into her with no more preamble than the kisses they'd just shared.

"My intentions?" He nodded, watching as her eyes flicked up to catch the movement. She smiled up at him from beneath her lashes and he'd never seen anything sexier than Emma Swan flirting with him as she ground down on his cock. "I do believe you told me to stop and enjoy the good moments, didn't you?"

"Aye, I did. More than once, if I recall correctly."

"Well, this is a good moment. And it's about to get even better."

With that, she slid down his body, taking the blankets and sheet with her as she went. She gripped the waistband of his pants, pushing them down and off his legs before reaching to grab the hem of her shirt in her hands. His breath stilled as she quickly pulled the material over her head, confirming for him that she hadn't bothered to put on a bra before coming to his room. He quirked a brow at that, a lascivious grin lighting his face.

"What?" She shrugged, blushing deeply before smoothing her hands down along her beautiful breasts, causing a deep groan to burst forth from his mouth at the sight. "I didn't have time to dress properly before I came here. I was very focused on getting to you. I was _worried_."

"I'm sorry to have upset you, love, but if that gets you to my door half-dressed then I may have to worry you more often." She rolled her eyes before standing up on the bed, bracing herself against the wall and swiftly removing her own flannel pants. He realized with a start that she was wearing her pajama bottoms. "Were you in bed before you came here?" He asked, curiously.

"Yep. I was trying to sleep, but I couldn't get you out of my head." She knelt between his thighs, pushing them farther apart so she could get closer to him. He watched her inspect him, his eyes widening when she actually licked her lips as she wrapped her hand around the base of his cock.

"_Emma_." He moaned again. He was pleading with her, not entirely sure what he was begging for. He only knew that she was the only one that could end this insufferable ache throbbing through his body.

"Be patient." She whispered up to him and then she dipped her mouth to the head of his cock, pressing her silky, wet tongue to his flesh. He instantly needed something to hold on to, his fingers clawing for purchase in the sheet bunched up at his side.

She took her time with him, stroking along his length with measured swipes of her tongue. There was no spot that she didn't caress, didn't taste. She even dipped her head down to kiss along his balls, pressing her hot mouth along his tender skin. When she finally opened her mouth and sucked him into the satiny heat of her mouth, he bit down on his lip, loving the feel of being fully encased in her warmth. He could hear himself whimpering and gasping as she tortured him, taking him deep into her throat. The sight before him was beyond his imaging and he'd imagined this quite a bit since first meeting her.

Feeling his body tighten with his impending release, he grasped her shoulder to get her attention. He didn't want it to end this way, not their first time.

"Emma, stop. Stop, please." He begged, watching with relief as she pulled away, a soft smile flitting around her mouth as she gazed up at him.

"Don't you want me to finish?" She asked him breathlessly.

"Gods, yes. A thousand times, yes, but not tonight." He sat up, pulling her back to him, kissing the taste of himself off her lips, whispering that she had a bloody _amazing_ mouth. He could feel the heat of her blush against him, pleased by his compliment, as she rightly should be.

"It's been a while since I've done that for anyone." She admitted between his kisses. His stomach clenched at the thought of her touching anyone else like that. She felt him tense in her arms and she pulled him tight to her, straddling his thighs as she settled on his lap. "It's been a _really_ long time, Killian. And it's never turned me on like that before. It makes a difference when you care for the person, I guess."

"Would you like me to reciprocate, love?" He asked her softly, not able to help the eager and hopeful smile that appeared on his face. She laughed, leaning in to press a quick kiss to his mouth before nodding shyly, one of those amazing blushes coloring her cheeks again. He lay back against the bed, helping her to scoot forward so that she was kneeling above his mouth.

He watched as she braced herself against the headboard, leaning forward slightly, so that she wasn't completely sitting on him, although he truly wouldn't have minded.

He almost couldn't believe this was about to happen, that he was finally going to taste her after all this time. He'd never had to work so hard for any female before, but gods was she worth it. He wrapped his bad arm around her hip, holding her in place above him, bringing his hand up to cup her sweetly rounded behind. Reaching out his tongue, he slid into her folds, seeking out her clit. He knew he'd found it when she keened above him and the headboard creaked as she leaned forward more. Not able to help the smirk that her breathy moan caused to break out across his face, he decided to explore his Swan a little bit more. She'd taken her time with him and he fully intended to do the same with her.

He went slowly, finding each place that caused her body to clench above him. She moaned each time he went back to her clit, teasing her with careful swipes of his tongue. He felt her strain deliciously above him as he dipped into her hot opening, gathering her essence on his tongue, listening as she moaned at his soft touches. When he did it a second time, she murmured something about "god" as she dropped her forehead down to where she gripped the headboard in her hands. She was panting, her hips beginning to roll against him as he drank of her.

"_Killian_." She called out, reaching down to grab his hair in one shaky hand. He stopped, waiting as she moved away from his mouth, plopping down beside him and panting against his chest.

"Why did you stop me, Swan? I was enjoying that." She shook her head instead of responding, moving quickly to straddle his thighs again.

"I didn't want to come yet." She said bluntly.

"Well, that's the amazing thing about women." He responded, sitting up and pulling her closer onto his lap. He smiled at her, reaching up to wipe her scent from his chin before leaning in to kiss her. She moaned around his tongue, no doubt tasting herself there. He pressed more kisses along her jaw and neck before biting lightly at her collarbone. "You can come as many times as you want with me, love."

"I know, but..." She trailed off, her breath hitching when he sucked one rigid nipple into his mouth, laving his tongue around her puckered flesh. He hummed in contentment, bringing his hand up to the silky roundness of her breast, loving how soft and full she was in his hand. "You're mouth is pretty damn amazing, too." She moaned.

Chuckling, he wrapped his bad arm around her waist, his hand trailing down from her plump breast over her muscled stomach to the juncture of her thighs. She dropped her head back as he slid his fingers between her slick folds. He could feel her hair tickling the tops of his thighs as she ground against his hand. The moan that left her mouth was sinfully arousing, his body desperately throbbing to join with hers at the sound.

"So wet for me, love." He murmured around her nipple, pressing a finger up into her body, his thumb teasing her clit as she rode his hand.

"Killian. Stop." She begged even as she ground down harder against him. "I don't want to come like this, please." She was in agonized bliss as he touched her, her body shaking as he brought her closer and closer to her release.

"That's it, love. Let go for me, please." He begged her, needing to see her come undone with a desperation that he'd never felt before.

"_Killian_." She panted, grabbing his wrist to stop his movements, stilling her hips at the same time. Shivering against him, she caught her breath then whispered, "I want the first time to be _with_ you. I want to feel you, Killian."

She blushed at her confession, smiling softly as their gazed connected. The depth of emotion he found in her eyes simply stole his breath away and his heart raced at her request. Not for the first time the words, "I love you," ran through his head and bubbled up on his tongue; he swallowed hard to keep from saying them. While he was beyond positive that he was completely and irrevocably in love with her, he wasn't sure that she was ready to hear that truth just yet.

"What?" She asked him, tilting her head in confusion as he continued to stare up at her.

"You're beautiful." He whispered instead, biding his time until he could tell her his truth and not worry that he would chase her off with the admission. He watched as her eyes sparkled down at him, bringing his palm up to rest on her pink cheek as they gazed into each others eyes.

She brought her own hands up his jaw, cradling his face before bringing her lips back to his. He could feel her trembling against him, could feel the tension that flowed through her body and into his. His pulse beat in time with hers, his body throbbing to be joined with hers, finally.

"Condom." She muttered in between kisses, pulling away from him long enough to pull open the drawer on the nightstand next to the bed. He held her hips, keeping her stable as she stretched awkwardly against him. When she came back, she had a small package in her hand, which she handed to him. "Suit up, sailor."

He quirked a brow at her, but did as she asked. He'd been in this realm long enough to have discovered contraception and had even brought it up to Emma during their date. She been uncomfortable at first with the direction he'd taken their discussion, but when he'd pointed out that he intended to 'pillage and plunder' her at some point, she'd explained all of it to him with a minimum of blushing. She'd told him that she'd already been to the doctor and was prescribed a "magic" pill that would prevent pregnancy, but that they still needed to be careful for the next month. He'd do anything she asked, as long as he could be with her.

She helped him roll the condom onto himself, securing it at his base and then sliding her hand easily back up his length. He watched the way she kept her eyes trained on her hand, groaning in desperation when she licked her bottom lip as she trailed her fingers around the head of his cock. Her eyes flicked up to his and she smiled, her gaze focusing in on his mouth.

He brought his hand up to the back of her head, loving the way her eyes continued to linger on his lips, a flare of lust in the green depths of her gaze.

"Emma?" He whispered, not wanting her to stop, but not wanting to wait any longer to be inside her.

"Yeah?" She breathed to him, her eyes flicking up to his.

"As much as I love having you touch me, if you don't stop this will be over before it's even started." She laughed at that, warming his heart to hear her happiness.

"Not quite what you had in mind for our first time?"

"Not quite, no." He smiled at that, pulling her mouth to his, sighing as the warm heat of her mouth collided with his.

She hummed against him, her own sigh mingling with his. He loved the way she kissed, had become obsessed with the feel of her lips against his, her tongue sliding into his mouth softly and shyly each time. He tried not to be too aggressive with her, but it was hard to hold back when she kissed him like that.

He felt her hand slide down his length again as she shifted her hips closer, straddling him still. She bit into his bottom lip, pressing her teeth into his flesh. Then, she sucked his swollen lip into her mouth, her tongue soothing the teethmarks that she'd left behind.

"Do you...do you want to do it like this?" She pulled back to ask him, shy again as she gestured down to their hips in a vague and embarrassed sort of way. He quirked a brow at her, smirking at her embarrassment.

"Do 'it'? Do _what_, love?"

"Killian, you know what I mean."

"I haven't the foggiest, Swan." She blushed, rolling her eyes in irritation.

"Do you want to _fuck_ like this?" She gestured again, her nose wrinkling as she murmured the curse. Hook's grin expanded, a dark chuckle bursting from him at her discomfort.

"You curse like a pirate, love. But I was thinking of doing something a little more romantic than _fucking_." She stared at him a moment, confusion bringing her brows down. She bit her lip, tilting her head in thought.

"You mean, _make love_?" He nodded softly, reaching up to brush his thumb along the red of her cheek in affection. "What's the difference?" His hand stilled as he looked at her.

"What's the difference between fucking and making love?" He clarified, brushing a strand of hair from her face and tucking it behind her ear.

"Yeah. I mean, it's the same thing, isn't it? When it all comes down to it, it's just fucking." She shrugged as she said it, a little frown gracing her features.

He thought for a moment then gathered her against him as he settled onto his back. He was still throbbing for her, encased in the sheath that she had wrapped around him, but it was important to make this distinction to her. He might have been a villainous pirate, but he knew what it meant to make love, knew the power in it, and he desperately wanted to share that experience with Emma.

He thought briefly of Baelfire, wondering what her experience with him had been like that she couldn't classify that as making love. Perhaps they'd been too young or inexperienced for her to feel that connection. He honestly didn't want to ask, deciding that the image of Emma in Baelfire's arms would surely kill him if he thought about it too closely.

"_Fucking_, as you so eloquently put it, Swan, is what you do when you need to scratch an itch. Hopefully it's with someone you trust, but it doesn't have to be. Hopefully it's good, but it doesn't always end up that way. It can satisfy your body, but it never satisfies your heart, your soul. Fucking_, _love, is mundane, redundant, _impersonal._"

Her eyes flared at that. "I don't think you're doing it right, Hook." Instead of responding, he grabbed her hand in his, pressing it above his heart, hoping she could feel the way it was racing for her.

"I do it very well, love. I've been _fucking_ for over three centuries. I know what I'm talking about when I say that it's nothing special." She stared at him, her eyes taking in the seriousness of his face, her palm pressed warmly against his heartbeat.

"Now. _Making love_ is a completely different situation. It is _never _mundane or redundant. It's beautiful and intense and _personal_. It fills you up, makes your heart feel like it's going to burst, makes your soul complete. It's a private moment between two people who trust each other unequivocally, who understand the importance of their actions, and who've made a choice to be in that moment together."

He paused, sneering in disdain before he said, "Those people next door to us, love? They were _fucking._"

Emma stared at him, her mouth having fallen open in awe as he spoke, her eyes focused on him the whole time. When he paused in his speech, he released his grip on her hand, trailing his fingers up her arm and along her neck. He gripped the back of her head, pulling her closer to his mouth as he continued to stare up at her.

"Emma?"

"Yeah?" She breathlessly asked him, her eyes dropping to his mouth.

"Will you make love with me?" He asked, his voice soft and anxious, watching as her eyes widened and she brought them up swiftly to his eyes. She seemed to have stopped breathing, biting her lip as she searched his face. She didn't respond, instead letting him pull her down to his mouth, her eyes sliding closed as he kissed her again.

She moaned against him, reaching down to grasp his throbbing cock in her warm palm. She stroked him once, twice, then shifted up on her knees as she straddled him again. Pulling away from his mouth, she held his cock in position between her thighs, pressing just the tip inside herself.

"Yes." She moaned in response to his question, sliding slowly down his length. When he was finally seated fully within her, he grabbed her hip, holding her still against him.

"_Don't move._" He pleaded as he held her in place. "Gods, Emma, don't move." Leaning down to his mouth again, she kissed him, swallowing his groans as she held him within her slick heat.

"Okay?" She finally breathed, pressing their foreheads together.

"I've waited so long for you, Emma." He whispered, his voice trembling as he trailed his fingers slowly up the length of her back. "Are _you_ okay?" He asked when he felt the tense way she was holding herself against him.

"Yeah, it's just been a while." She responded, pausing before whispering so softly he almost didn't hear her, "I can't believe you're...God, I can _feel_ you, Killian."

"Kiss me." He begged her, not able to hold back the note of desperation in his voice any longer.

She did as he asked, breathing his breath for a moment before pressing her mouth fully to his. Long, blissful moments passed as they kissed, her heat surrounding him as he throbbed deeply inside of her. She was so warm, so tight. He needed to focus on something other than drilling his hips into her. He had just told her that he was going to make love to her, and yet, all he could think of doing was fucking her until they were both senseless.

"Killian." She breathed, pulling her mouth from his to gasp his name. "Can I...can I move now?" She begged.

He realized that they were both shaking, trembling with a need so profound that there were no words to describe it. He nodded to her as she planted her hands on either side of his head, staring down at him as she slowly rolled her hips against him.

His eyes slid shut at the sensation of her encasing him, her satiny warmth enveloping him as she found her rhythm. His hand at her waist flexed as he guided her movements. When he opened his eyes, he groaned at the sight of her, naked and _perfect_, biting her lip, eyes closed in concentration as she rode him.

"I don't know how long I can last, love." He panted to her, damning the embarrassed blush that he felt color his cheeks. It had been a while for him and he'd been waiting for her so damn long. Not to mention how close she's already brought him to the brink of his release. He'd make it up to her next time, he swore to himself, but he was careening towards a pleasure so intense that his mouth fairly watered to taste it. He sat up enough to wrap his arms around her and pulled her down to lie tight against him.

"It's okay. I'm close, too." She whispered breathlessly against his neck. "You feel _so_ good, Killian."

"You, too." He was able to whisper back, wondering where all of his eloquence had gone. Emma took that moment to sit up again, rolling her hips down, taking him deep inside her and moaning her pleasure. He suddenly knew exactly who had stolen all of his fancy words.

"_Emma." _He gasped, watching as she rode him with her head thrown back. He took the opportunity to slide his hand from her hip down to where they were joined. Keeping his palm resting on her mound, he pressed his thumb into the slickness of her heat, moaning at how wet she was for him.

When he found her clit, he gently ran his thumbnail over it, timing it with the rolls of her hips. He wanted to kiss her again, but gods, he didn't want her to stop riding him. She was so tight, squeezing him as she took him deeper and deeper, the sweetest pink flush painting her chest and the space between her breasts as she moved.

She opened her eyes then, catching his gaze, a soft, happy smile lighting her eyes.

"Good, love?" He asked her, wanting to make sure she was enjoying this as much as he was. She nodded, wrapping her hand around his wrist to hold him in place against her, planting her other hand against his stomach.

"I'm so close." She moaned, keeping her eyes trained on his as he flicked softly against her clit. His body was tensing beneath her as he pressed himself up into her, sweat beading on his forehead as he held back his release for her.

"That's it, sweetheart. Come for me." He panted to her, desperate to feel her fall apart around him.

A few more gentle flicks of his thumb, a few more rolls of her hips as he thrust into her and then she released a desperate sob of pleasure as she threw back her head and rode it out. He couldn't tear his eyes away from her as she came, her breath stuttering as she clenched around him. When his pleasure began to border on pain, he sat up, wrapping her tightly against him and biting into the sinews of her neck as he sobbed his own release into her skin.

He trembled in her arms, panting against her as wave after wave of pleasure rolled through him. It was like nothing he'd ever experienced before, his breath stilling and the words "I love you" caught in his throat. She wrapped her arms around him, pressing kisses into his heated skin, whispering her own encouraging words as white lights of pleasure burst across his vision.

When he finally came down from his high, he pulled back to gaze into her face. Her eyes sparkled brilliantly at him, a shy smile turning up the corners of her mouth as she stared back at him. He brought his thumb up to her bottom lip, watching as he trailed it softly against the damp plumpness.

"You okay?" He asked softly, his heart pounding in anticipation of her response.

"Yeah." She whispered back before she leaned forward to press a chaste kiss to his lips. When she pulled back, she smiled again before whispering, "I get it now."

"Get what, love?"

"What you said about fucking and making love." He waited, watching as she bit her lip, contemplating her next words before speaking. "You said making love was 'beautiful and intense and personal?'"

She paused and he nodded to confirm his words. "What we just shared...it was all of those things; _you_ were all of those things and I...I understand the difference now, Killian."

He kissed her then, not able to help the moan that slipped from his mouth into hers. He was still inside her body, his skin tingling from the most intense orgasm of his life, but amazingly, his body was stirring again for her. He wanted so desperately to tell her that he loved her that it was painful not to utter the words, but he didn't want to scare her.

Instead he lay back against the pillows on his bed, pulling her down with him and letting her snuggle into his side. Reaching down, he removed the used condom, dropping it carelessly over the side of the bed. He shifted through the sheets and blankets tangled around their bodies, searching for his cell phone. When he finally found it, he pressed the button on the side to light up the little screen, moaning when he saw the time.

He showed it to Emma and she grimaced. "I have to go soon. Henry has that doctor's appointment this morning." She pressed herself tighter against him, wrapping her arm around his middle.

They lay there, in quiet bliss, little kisses pressed against warm skin in the silence. Every once in a while, he'd say something that would cause a giggle to bubble up from her lips, a grin instantly appearing on his face at the sound. The word "contentment" didn't do this feeling justice, he thought as he peered down into her upturned face, her dimples on full display.

When she finally decided that it was time to go, he pulled on his flannel pants and handing Emma's clothes back to her. Once she was dressed, he helped her to stand before pulling her tight against him.

"Thank you." He murmured against her temple, pressing a kiss there before pulling back to look into her upturned face.

"For what?" She asked, sliding her hands down to his hips as they stood there, slowly rocking back and forth together.

"For letting me share Liam with you." He smiled softly. "He would've liked you." She grinned in pleasure at that before leaning up on her toes to kiss him again. When she settled back down on her feet, she stared up at him for a moment and the look of happiness on her face simply took his breath away.

"I think I would've like him, too. And you don't have to thank me, Killian. I want to be here for you just like you've been for me. You don't have to fight through your past alone. We're in this together."

He had no words with which to respond and he chuckled at himself. When Emma quirked an eyebrow in question at him, he turned her towards the door of his room and pushed her softly towards it.

"What are you laughing at?" She sounded a bit put out and he realized that she thought he was laughing at her.

"It's nothing, Swan. That's just the second time tonight that I've found myself speechless where you were concerned."

"Oh." She looked over her shoulder at him, pausing with her hand on the doorknob as she smiled. He was reminded of the night that she said goodnight to him on the landing outside her parent's loft and he was behind her in an instant, turning her quickly back to him and kissing her breathless once more.

When she finally pulled away, he knew that his love for her was written all over his face and he didn't care any longer. He didn't want to hide it away from her lest he scare her away. She was beautiful, amazing, powerful, sensual, sexy, good, kind, bloody amazing and she was _his._ He loved her beyond all reason, beyond all logic, beyond all sanity and he wanted her to know it.

"Emma..." He whispered, opening his mouth on a deep breath, but before he could finish his thought, she pressed her hand across his lips, her eyes wide as she stared up at him.

"Don't." She whispered, tears forming quickly in the corners of her eyes. "Don't say it, Killian. I don't want to disappoint you. Not tonight. Not after what we just shared."

"Emma." He protested around her palm.

"I'm sorry. Oh god, I'm sorry." His heart felt like it had dropped into his stomach, but he pulled her into his arms when he saw a tear break free and race down her cheek.

"It's okay, love, it's okay." He soothed her, rocking her against him in comfort. As he held her, he took deep breaths, trying to calm his racing heart. When she spoke again, he could hear the torment in her voice.

"You aren't the only one with wounds." She sounded so sad that his own pain was instantly forgotten. He took a deep breath, closing his eyes briefly before pulling away enough to look down into her eyes.

"Then allow me to help you heal them, love. We're in this together, yeah?"

"How do you do that?"

"Do what, love?" He asked, brushing another tear from her cheek.

"I hurt you, even when I don't mean to, and you just...you just forgive me." He thought for a moment before saying softly, hoping his response wasn't too much for her.

"That's what you do when you care for someone as much as I care for you." He waited, searching her eyes for signs of panic, sighing in relief when he found none. Instead, she smiled through her tears, leaning forward to press her forehead against his collarbone for a moment.

"I know I keep asking, Killian, but please be patient with me. Please don't give up on me." Gods, but he never could.

When she was finally gone, promising to call him later before brushing a soft kiss of goodbye to his cheek, he closed the door behind her and then peered into the gloomy dark of his room. He couldn't help the tremor of happiness that ran through his body. He could smell her still, feel her against him even now.

They were two damaged souls, but they were trying. They were trying to be together and despite the bumps, the obstacles that they would surely encounter, she was willing to give him a try, and even more than that, she was willing to give_ herself_ a try.

He'd never been happier with such imperfect perfectness in his life. He loved her, her wounds and all. And hopefully, someday, she'd be able to tell him the same.

* * *

><p><em>Reviews are like chocolate chip cookies; the more you have, the more you want. <em>**Hook **_me up, lovelies! _


End file.
